


The Two Best Letters

by iArgent



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dimitri being a good anxious boy, Drinking, Feelings Realization, Felix being absolutely wasted but functional, Kittens, M/M, Matchmakers, Sylvain and Ingrid, The Wilted Rose Inn, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Yuri not thinking highly of himself, Yuri overthinking, Yuri suddenly realizing WHOOPS I CLEARLY LIKE HIM, minimal dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24080815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iArgent/pseuds/iArgent
Summary: Celebrating a victory is fine. Until Felix blushes at the introvert table, Sylvain starts acting shady, and Ingrid is unconcerned.It culminates in the best and most terrifying word Yuri has ever had the honor of thinking.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc
Comments: 18
Kudos: 67





	The Two Best Letters

**Author's Note:**

> EYYYY
> 
> Back with cute Feluri. 
> 
> While not delved into, Felix, DEFO feels the same way. They also definitely end up all happy and cute.

Gautier had more money than sense and the drinks in Abyss were cheap anyway. So after the fiasco of the last battle and the heady joy of being alive, every general in the Blaiddyd army is packed in the Wilted Rose inn. In their defence, the alcohol is indeed getting better. Which is why Yuri has taken full advantage of Sylvain’s weird generosity (spite spending?) and gotten himself a nice blackberry cordial and settled at a table with his back to the wall. Somewhere around the midway point, he was joined by Hapi, Bernadetta, and the weirdest of the bunch, Felix Fraldarius who was sipping straight vodka and glowering whenever someone tried to pull him into conversation.

Dimitri himself popped up once, standing next to Fraldarius in complete silence for three minutes, not even looking like he was going to talk, before wandering off. “Go get ‘em, Boar.”

If Yuri hadn’t been _watching_ he may have missed it. But no. Apparently the King had wandered over for some emotional fortitude, and Felix had _provided_ it. Warmly even. Yuri was not drunk but maybe he should be.

Hapi refuses to make conversation, he’d opened his mouth at Bernadetta to ask what wine she was drinking, she’d shrieked, slapped Felix’s drink out of his hand mid drink, apologized, shrieked, and darted off to Petra.

Hapi had snorted and got up to move, rushing off to find Constance and relate the tale.

Yuri was left with Duke Fraldarius, who was…soaked in his drink. The front of his shirt darkened, his chin shining, and if the sputtering was anything to go by, his sinuses? Clear.

Unsure of what to do, Yuri took a sip of his cordial. The soft sweet heat of it warming him inside as he settled in to watch Fraldarius come to terms with what had happened.

“Damn.” He murmured after a moment.

At which point Gautier swept in with another glass, a teasing smacking kiss on the cheek, and a comment of bibs being in short supply. Felix chugged the glass handed it back, asked Sylvain to commit an anatomical impossibility, and continued to nurse the last little bit of vodka in his spilled glass.

Sylvain winked at Yuri, why he didn’t know, and scampered off. Likely to look like a puppy at Dimitri until the King held his hand. Clingy. Cute. But clingy. Yuri would kill for them.

It took a few more minutes, but Yuri eventually became aware of a soft pink flush over Felix’s sharp cheekbones. There was nothing to blush over in the introvert corner, that was the entire point. Yuri had been a part of the party, then he had left the party because they were fun, but only fun for a little bit. He hadn’t been lying when he told the professor he preferred parties to tea parties. But that didn’t mean he didn’t prefer watching others have fun.

Which, back to Felix, who was blushing. In the introvert corner. Which may not be a sin but Yuri was going to treat it like it was.

“So, thinkin’ ‘bout a hot date?”

“Excuse me?”

Mm, his tone was still biting, but the words were softer, warmer on the delivery.

“My my. Is our illustrious Duke…drunk?”

Felix narrowed his eyes at him in a rather impressive glare. Felix could be intimidating. Hell, he could be scary. But to Yuri he was always a cute little kitten with his tail straight up and little soft ears pinned back. Which was not ideal when he regularly served under and next to the man on the battlefield. They worked well together. Too well. It was freaky. They were lightning on the field, Yuri’s dancing keeping them both jetting across the field, magic at their fingertips destroying archers, their blades snaking between plates of armor and piercing robes. Byleth called them a dream team. Balthus called them the gruesome twosome. Bernadetta pushed her fingers together and said they were ‘cute.’

Sylvain winked at him.

Yuri felt distressingly like all of this was a plan coming together.

“Hey, Ingrid. Your boy’s drunk.”

“Which boy?” Ingrid asked, stopping as she walked by their table and tilting her head. “I have several. Which boy?”

Yuri opened his mouth to pointedly assure her that he’s sitting by the drunk one. And she takes one look at him, looks at Felix, and says “Oh he’s fine. I thought you meant bad drunk. Find me if Sylvain takes off his shirt.” And walks away.

Yuri regards Felix with consideration. There’s another glass in front of him. Yuri is displeased that he doesn’t know where it came from. He doesn’t like missing things.

“Are you done whining?” Felix asks.

Oh yeah, he’s right there and not hard at hearing. The man has head him complaining like he’s Constance three sheets to the wind trying to reverse her dress in public convinced the inside is a more flattering color. It isn’t. It also isn’t reversible. “No, I think I’ll continue.”

“Suit yourself, fool.”

Felix has such pretty cheekbones.

No.

Stop.

Abort.

Felix and him work because there isn’t anything under the simple joy of winning a fight. Of proving their strength. Of defending those they care about. Yuri’s five year dry spell and weakness for beautiful things isn’t allowed to ruin what may be the purest relationship he’s ever had. There’s no secrets, no ulterior motives. Yuri can tell Felix to do something and he does it, at once, without reservation. And Yuri does the same, because they work. A sword and a hilt, a bow and an arrow, and they change which one is which. 

So no. Yuri isn’t going to let himself get lost in the pretty image Felix Fraldarius makes, because he’s worth more than that. More than a pretty face, more than a warm body, and Yuri isn’t gonna touch him.

Felix watches him out of the corner of his eye when he thinks Yuri isn’t looking. Eyes burning gold and far too observant. His face gets redder. He doesn’t splotch like Balthus. He flushes fetchingly. Yuri is a descendant of a holy man and is pretty sure he took all the sin to keep the world in balance.

Faerghus boys all seem to flush like that. Dimitri is half hanging off Sylvain after another hour, everybody is leaving, someone keeps refilling Yuri’s cordial, he’s a little fuzzy around the edges.

“Hey, be a pal and help Felix home, yeah?” Sylvain says, charming, as he sweeps out supporting the King of the Holy Kingdom with an arm around the waist. “He’s looking rough.”

“Go home.” Felix grunts. “I’m fine, as I ever am.”

When Yuri looks up, they’re alone. He is betrayed.

“Well, I’d best be off.” Felix says, standing and staggering just a little.

Yuri may not be the best person. He’s not a good person. He is in fact, a bad person, even if he tries to do the right thing. But still. “Stay down here. Less mockery in the morning, I’ll even walk you to my place.”

“Hands to yourself, Leclerc.” Felix says, not biting at all, which, really sets Yuri’s teeth on edge because that made his stomach do something. He must really be hard up if Felix being niceish is doing it for him.

He holds on to that denial until he hears the softest little sniff halfway to his room in an empty alleyway. When Yuri turns around, because if Felix is crying, something terrible has happened, he’s surprised to see a little orange kitten with two little paws on the Dukes shin. Felix is, unexpectedly, though really justifiably with that _little face_ in tears. One calloused slender hand over his mouth in such a highborn gesture that Yuri is absolutely thrown.

“Felix?” He rasps out.

Felix stops halfway to petting its little head. “Sorry.” He chokes out “You’re allergic I shouldn’t touch them.”

“Please pick it up and hug it.”

Yuri can’t touch cats or dogs. Yuri can’t breathe near cats or dogs. All his interactions are saying they’re adorable, and standing a minimum of five feet away. He wants to see Felix pet this kitten. Felix is drunk, very drunk, crying over a cute cat in an alleyway and something inside of Yuri is screaming. He wants to cry, wants to laugh. Wants to grab a pen and paper and draw this, wants to have Felix look at him and tear up because he’s so precious to him. He wants Felix to smile and weep in joy every day, wants to set the world on fire and pull the stars from the sky to make him laugh he wants to-

**_Oh._**


End file.
